


It Takes a Few Tries

by speckledsolanaceae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: About Time AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No COVID-19, Fluff and Humor, M/M, NCT Ensemble - Freeform, New Year's Kiss, Pining, Time Travel, alcohol present but not important, ambiguous side-pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledsolanaceae/pseuds/speckledsolanaceae
Summary: The clock showed 8:42. There were three hours and eighteen minutes to go.Did he want to start over?(OR: Donghyuck has one goal this New Year's Eve and time-travelsAbout Time-style to achieve it.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Moon Taeil
Comments: 14
Kudos: 123





	It Takes a Few Tries

**Author's Note:**

> I had meant to get this out on January 1st but that _obviously_ didn't happen.
> 
> This fic features a few prominent songs—there's one in particular that's especially important. If you're ever lost, I've compiled all of them in a [spotify playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4S2HIWqXwfGPF6smvgIF0x?si=7WScpcPVSGeav8oGLjkSQQ)
> 
> I had so much fun writing this fic ♡ I really hope you enjoy!

Donghyuck came home to an entrance crowded by almost two dozen pairs of shoes that weren’t his, Renjun’s, or Mark’s—there were pink hi-tops, bulky nikes, scuffed and discolored vans, sneakers with all the wrong shoelaces and charms threaded in, polka-dot converse with drawn-on emojis, sandals in this god-forsaken weather of all things, and then . . . ah. The leather chucks with snapped laces.

Heart lurching so hard he almost shut the door on his own fingers, Donghyuck kept his eyes off those particular shoes on nervous principle alone and toed out of his own. He wrestled his house slippers out from around some bags left at the entrance as well as someone deeper into the flat cranked the chorus of some rock song Donghyuck couldn’t recognize yet. 

He began to pick out voices—and the smell of something baking maybe?—as he turned the corner out of the entryway. Peeling himself out of his layers, he shrugged off his computer bag and began to feel the social buzz crawl through the air. It met him like visceral grabby-hands, but he was nervous, now. Did Renjun tell him he’d be inviting like . . . _everyone?_

“HYUCKIE’S HERE!”

“Fuck— _hyung,”_ Donghyuck laughed, almost dropping his bag when Johnny swept him up around the thighs, wheeled him around, then let go of him like a log. Without pause, Johnny took him by the end of his tie as the back of the apartment roared a greeting— _took you long enough; where the fuck have you been?; his boss kept him back; is nothing sacred?; SNSD IS UP NEXT HYUCK—_ and looped him out of it, popping two buttons before Donghyuck could regain his breath.

Johnny looked incredible, his hair swept back and a printed black shirt tucked under belted jeans. Donghyuck did _not_ want to waltz into this party with his work clothes still on, tie stuffed into his shirt pocket or not, but he couldn’t scooch out of Johnny’s bulky presence, now. He’d been too slow at the entrance, and now he looked like some stiff paralegal just barely broken out of his mold.

Which was the truth, but _still._

“There we go,” Johnny said, “solid three out of ten.”

 _“God,_ that’s so low,” Donghyuck groaned, then slapped at Johnny’s chest to get him out of his upper periphery like a stylish helicopter.

“Shoulda worn a colored shirt. Roll up your sleeves.”

“Give me ten min—”

He was yanked from his pathetic plea, half-tossed, partially-propelled further toward the back where the sitting room opened up partway to the kitchen—the stairs passed him by, the coat closet, ah _fuck_ he still had his jacket and coat and scarf and _bag_ over his arm. “SNSD!” insisted Jaemin over the cries of MIYAVI and Sonita Alizadeh, the intruder, his wiry grip like the kiss of death.

Jaemin was gorgeous, too. The fucker. Was that lip gloss?

“Hey Donghyuck-ah.”

His heart straightened to attention for that greeting and voice in particular, he turned, ears picking up on the smile in those words—

He was shoved, periphery blurring, and landed right in front of the television where the “Genie” music video was just revving up with its lamp and purple heart. Someone stripped him of his impedimenta as he tried to get his bearings.

At least it wasn’t Dancing Queen. Even his bravery couldn’t hold a flame to the slow ass-swaying with twenty-something shameless people at his back and slacks that didn’t fit as well as the ones at the dry-cleaner’s.

He would be turning around, though, because even in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled down and his hair unstyled, he was going to perform.

“Yangyang, get up there!”

With Yangyang, according to Kunhang, who’d hollered from the back of the room by the sound of it.

Lord, life the first time through was a riot and a half.

(He’d have to turn around eventually.)

“Where’s Jungwoo?” Donghyuck said because he might as well—especially since the coffee table being gone made room for at least four people. “Shotaro?”

Oh, no. That was a mistake.

Shotaro was a professional.

Fuck.

 _That’s right, come on,_ said the disembodied male voice of the music video.

Damn it.

Donghyuck turned and flicked his hand out with a flourish.

The room howled, Yangyang slinging himself over the couch, Jungwoo sliding in at his side, Shotaro springing up from the floor.

Moon Taeil. Right there. At the end of his finger. He was wearing a turtleneck and was squished between Sicheng and Taeyong on the couch, knees crossed, cup in his hand.

Donghyuck’s brain screamed at him in a chorus of sopranos five pitches higher than Taeyeon could ever go, and he missed the step out with his right leg like a goddamn fool.

Taeil smiled. Donghyuck just barely locked into the next moveset as Mark, from atop the kitchen counter, yelled at him for missing four entire seconds of the choreography (“C’mon, Hyuck!”).

He wanted to whine amidst Jessica’s crooned _“isanghyeongeul.”_ Taeil was wearing a _turtleneck_ for god’s sake and he was supposed to dance to a song all about wish-making.

He wanted a do-over. 

But he had to endure this, first. Pride and a genuine love for Girls’ Generation dictated that he stay. The congregation whistled and cheered and sang along, but a shoddy performance was a good time even if he could feel the underarms of his dress shirt start to go from crisp-and-dry to straight-up-unfortunate. At the very end, Jungwoo slut-dropped to a crouch and someone in the apartment screamed for it, and Donghyuck did the bare minimum with a hip-pop and salute because deliberately not staring at Taeil the entire four minutes did something to his nerves.

Donghyuck stumbled out of the area for a water bottle as Yuta cat-called Shotaro in Japanese (the praise overall was enthusiastic) and Ten called Yangyang a sexy little thing.

And Mark, from the kitchen counter, said good-naturedly, “You’re going to have to do a re-do, man. We gotta get you up there for a different one.”

“Ye—” Through pure overestimation of the general durability of this particular water bottle, Donghyuck twisted the entire thing too firmly and got a small waterfall over his knuckles and a light spray over the front of his shirt. “Okay then.”

Someone burst into laughter—a cackle that turned into a swell of echoes—but it definitely couldn’t be at him in this corner of the kitchen with his hands wet and his skin itching.

“Dude,” Mark laughed. “Oh my god. You’re off your game.”

The song flipped after a prolonged, bickering delay to something with guitar as Donghyuck put the water bottle back on the crowded counter next to some cheese balls. Retrieving a hand towel as Doyoung began to sing, he told Mark, “You try doing leg swivels in slacks.”

“You looked great,” Mark said, contrite. “Is this SHINee?”

Donghyuck looked over as Jungwoo finished leading off Doyoung and flapped his hand at Jaehyun to sing Key’s part. “Sounds like it. Would it be dumb if I went up and changed clo—Mark-hyung.”

“Sorry,” Mark said, his attention slipping away like soap in a bathtub, “I just— _Taeyong-hyung,_ hey. What’s the title of this song?”

Donghyuck rubbed his hands with the towel and processed the gathering fully for the first time. It was all of them—everyone they’d studied with in college, exes who’d stayed friendly, friends of friends who were better than the original connection, coworkers over the years. It was the male half, an aggregate of what? Two-dozen of them? Like a bachelor’s party for no one in particular, and a good chunk of them weren’t single.

Somewhere, the ladies were probably fucking it up to TWICE and monopoly in Irene’s flat. They’d mixed last year, but this New Year’s Eve was segregated if only because they’d celebrated all of the October birthdays in one go in a massive flock that could have gotten them arrested if they’d just—

Taeil was singing.

He was still on the couch, only less scrunched because Taeyong had draped himself over the arm of the couch, and his chin was tilted ever so slightly up, mouth smiling around Onew’s verse. His voice climbed and fell, slipped to falsetto just as the original did for one lovely syllable, and even when the notes were a little reaching, he hit them with that pretty, resonant timbre and a slow blink of his eyes that said he was relishing it.

The hairs on Donghyuck’s nape stood on end.

Moon Taeil: thirty-two, bisexual, software engineer, bar singer when he felt like it, an IT back in college who Johnny had latched onto and reeled in and integrated, a wild card, single as of February and dating casually again.

He took Donghyuck’s breath away.

He’d had a crush on him back when he’d been twenty and Taeil had been twenty-six. There was something about how relaxed he was while still so goddamn funny, then outrageously talented and peculiar whether anyone was looking or not.

It had been two entire years of skittish pining, and then a year of sort of—well, simping, he’d suppose. And then Taeil had committed to a girl from Ilsan who did pottery and baseball.

Things had slowed down, some feelings got put on lock, and Taeil became real.

But every time Taeil was single again, Donghyuck lost all sensation in his fingers.

The clock showed 8:42. There were three hours and eighteen minutes to go.

Did he want to start over?

Taeil began to sing Onew’s second verse. Taeyong had flopped over the arm so Sicheng could push Taeil off the couch. It was Taeil serenading Jungwoo, who was cuddled down on Jaehyun’s lap. Kun was picking the next song with Renjun.

Donghyuck wiped down his water bottle then knocked back a swig like a shot.

“His voice is amazing,” said Sungchan out of nowhere, or maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention. Either way, Donghyuck startled and swore when more water splashed. At least it was on the countertop. “Sorry,” Sungchan said from the open door of the refrigerator, laughing a little. “Beer?”

Did he want to start over?

“No, I’m good,” Donghyuck mumbled.

“Thanks for hosting,” said Sungchan kindly.

“Yeah, I’m going to pop upstairs for five. Hold the fort for me?”

“Sure, hyung. You okay?”

“Fantastic. I’ll be down in a second.”

He was going to start over.

Taking the steps two at a time, he only heard one protest (“Is that Hyuck? Is he okay?”) before he was already at the top.

“Hyuck-ah?” called Doyoung from the bottom of the stairs.

“Just changing my shirt!” Donghyuck called back, already slipping into his room from the narrow second floor. He tripped over a package he still hadn’t opened with a ripe swear, just barely catching his momentum before he brained himself on his bookshelf.

He crammed himself into the right side of his closet without so much as turning his bedroom light on, closed his eyes, curled his fists, and waited for the _WOOSH._

* * *

* * *

* * *

There were almost two dozen pairs of shoes in the entryway.

Donghyuck yanked off his dress shoes, shoved some bags aside, and plied his slippers on his feet. He didn’t bother taking off his coat or jacket or bag or scarf. He was going right upstairs, changing into ripped jeans that showed off his ass, and getting back in time for “Genie.”

He swung around the corner, already breathless with how fast he would move, and slammed right into Johnny.

What? He must have been closer to the entrance than he’d thought.

“HYUCKIE’S HERE!”

Fuck.

A roar— _took you long enough; where the fuck have you been?; his boss kept him back; is nothing sacred?; SNSD IS UP NEXT HYUCK—_ and then Johnny was peeling Donghyuck out of his coat and jacket all in one go.

 _“No—”_ Donghyuck protested. “Just give me a second. Let me go change.”

“Looks like you need it,” said Johnny. “You didn’t even wear a colored shirt?”

“Shut _up,_ I _know.”_

“Wow, okay. Snippy.”

Jaemin appeared in the little entryway like a wraith or grim reaper in his lip gloss and extremely gay patterned pants that Donghyuck had missed his first go around.

Donghyuck bolted.

Jaemin was closer to the stairs.

“You’re running from _‘Genie’?”_ cried Jaemin as MIYAVI and Sonita Alizadeh wound down, and with his deceptively strong, skinny arms, Jaemin hauled him into the sitting room. Jeno laughed from somewhere in the room, but Donghyuck had a full view of Taeil crammed between Taeyong and Sicheng, a smile curling into his mouth from where it sat behind the lip of his cup.

Like he didn’t just see him exactly like this ten-or-something minutes ago, Donghyuck lost his breath a little.

“Hey Donghyuck-ah,” said Taeil amidst the other greetings and cheers and laughter.

“Hey, hyung,” Donghyuck wheezed from his position halfway hitched over Jaemin’s shoulder, then had a dizzy sort of thrilling horror that they had an exchange of words in this particular position.

When Jaemin dropped him, Donghyuck overbalanced, his bag touching the floor before he caught his balance, and by the time Jaemin stripped away said bag and scarf, he still had his tie on. Sleeves not rolled, no buttons undone. The works.

“Yangyang, get up there!”

Why did time move so fast after the first round?

_That’s right, come on._

Donghyuck sighed, then did the hand flourish right in Taeil’s direction. He’d have to take his tie off mid-dance, but that was sexy, wasn’t it?

The room howled just as it had before, and Yangyang slid into the steps with Donghyuck, which he didn’t miss this time. They locked in together, and when it was time to do the finger-wiggle down his face, Donghyuck snagged his tie and worked it loose, smile growing on his face as he did so because Chenle—from the other end of the couch, Donghyuck could see now—downright screamed at the display.

“PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH,” boomed Yukhei.

“IT’S SILK?” Donghyuck refused, and half the room erupted into laughter (“Boo!” cried Ten).

But he did find a way to pop two buttons while Yangyang took Tiffany’s part face-front.

“Yah!” Mark yelled from the kitchen. “This isn’t a strip club!”

“It’s two buttons!” Donghyuck retorted, but his own face was smiling—or maybe a smirk, actually; it kind of felt like a smirk—by the time he took Sunny’s part.

Taeil’s eyes were laughing.

Donghyuck missed the cute little hand-wave cross-move thingie because of that. If he were a _real_ performer, the sparkling eyes of his longtime crush wouldn’t make him lose himself mid pre-chorus.

God, Taeil was gorgeous. His undercut had grown out a little, his hair getting longer in general, which meant he’d probably be cutting it outrageously short again in the next month or so, but Donghyuck loved it like this.

He was staring.

Tearing his eyes away, he looked at Yangyang during the next hip wiggle. Yangyang’s laugh and smile swung Donghyuck’s head back into the choreography—enough to do the “DJ, put it back on” part seriously as Yangyang took a knee for him. “Seriously” meant a wink, which he did, and which Johnny, now in the back, fake-swooned at.

He loved this group of friends. He really did.

By the end, he was sweatier than he had been the first time. He retrieved his jacket and things from Jaemin before retreating, a long enough lag to hear the group conclude on SHINee’s “Honesty.” He slipped off for the kitchen, got his water bottle, and when Mark paused midway through saying, “God, it’s always so fun to watch yo—” to ask who the artist was, Donghyuck was able to reply, “SHINee. It’s ‘Honesty.’”

 _“Oh,”_ said Mark, expression appreciative. “Dude, I knew that.”

Donghyuck twisted his water bottle the correct amount this time and took a swig. He did not startle when Sungchan joined them in the kitchen, but he did still refuse a beer. “I’m going to go change, first,” he explained while Taeil raised the hairs at his nape in the background.

“You look fine, Hyuck,” Mark said misguidedly with half his attention taken up by Jungwoo, now in Jaehyun’s lap.

“I could look better.”

Sungchan leaned against the counter. “Go change,” he encouraged, so Donghyuck slipped away.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised Doyoung as he passed.

And when he reached his bedroom, he did not trip over the package—especially not after turning on the light. This time, when he threw open his closet, it was to rummage through clothing and not to start over.

He hadn’t always been able to reset time as he pleased. According to his dad, it was the sort of thing that happened upon 20-year-old men of this particular lineage. An “oh hey! you’re an adult now and you can, y’know, be even more messed up but in a video-game like way!” sort of thing.

Oh god, if he ever had sons, he'd need to do _that_ explanation over a few times. 

The secret had come with warnings, of course. Don’t be ambitious, _do_ be kind, have fun with it but not the illegal kind of fun, be reasonable, and accept that some mistakes were worth living with. 

This New Year’s Eve, he believed, was an opportunity and not a situation of potential mistakes he had to live with. He’d let himself live with a few already.

For instance, he was hell-bent on not restarting the entire day just to wear a colored shirt and avoid a slew of other inconveniences. He’d done his closet trick once, though, when he burned his tongue eating lunch, but that was nuance.

In any case, he hadn’t really planned an outfit. He wasn’t especially fashion-forward or fashion-sideways or whatever. His biggest achievement was doing his laundry consistently and getting his suits to the dry cleaner’s when he started looking vaguely problematic under the scrutiny of the associates.

There were a few good pieces, though. He had some ripped jeans among his sweatpants and workout wear, and there were casual shirts that he knew didn’t make Taeyong do that kind, little, wide-eyed head-cock when he saw them. Or score a three on Johnny’s fashion scale. 

He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over his desk chair in the corner, scanning his nicer tops. There was too much black, but that was a mistake he was living with and quite enjoyed on the average day. He looked nice in black.

But also, variety was tempting. More black as usual wouldn’t make Taeil blink, now would it? He’d at least wear blue jeans.

For utmost safety, he sniffed the shirt he chose before putting it on, then wiggled one leg at a time into his light denim skinny jeans, making sure not to catch his toes in the artful rips. He then slid on his patterned leather belt before reaching for his perfume—not because his shirt smelled bad or anything, but just because it didn’t smell like much of anything (which really meant it smelled like pure Donghyuck, a scent to which he was immune, and that _could_ have been a bad thing for all he knew).

It was in the midst of spritzing his crotch (just once!) that he smelled something entirely different.

Tripping back into his slippers, he threw open his door and popped his head out, taking a long whiff.

“Is something b—” Too quiet. There’s no way he could be heard over Jaden’s “Watch Me” cranked so loud. “IS SOMETHING BURNING?”

“UH—”

Grace came with practice, so Donghyuck almost certainly slammed into the wall when he ran down the stairs and jumped the last three steps. If he had to do it again, he’d do it better the second time.

 _“What_ are you burning?” he asked upon skidding into a slight haze and Mark swearing at the cloud he was battling with a raggedy oven mitt while Renjun tugged a pan of charcoal out of their little oven with a wet rag. 

“Cookies,” said two people at once while a third said unhelpfully, “A disaster.”

“The alarm’s going to go off,” Taeyong warned desperately.

“Someone put a rag over the—”

“Ow, _fuck—”_

_“Careful.”_

With a rattle, the hunks of black sprung off the diving board of a pan as Renjun’s elbow jostled from connecting with the metal of the oven door. They skittered across the floor like—“Susuwatari,” Yuta laughed.

“Oh my god?” said Shotaro, giggling.

—Studio Ghibli soot sprites. The men crowding the kitchen scattered in their wake, Renjun tossed the pan in the sink and attached his mouth to the burn on his forearm with a grumble, and the fire alarm went off.

Taeil was picking up a cookie with a napkin, looking interested.

Donghyuck tilted his head back and laughed.

* * *

* * *

* * *

There were shoes in the doorway.

This time, Donghyuck waited. He’d miss “Genie,” but he liked mixing things up a little. If he were fast enough—if no one _saw_ him make a break for the stairs—he could change into his party clothes and maybe even put product in his hair, save the cookies, _and_ hear Taeil sing Onew’s lines again.

He peeked around the corner of the entrance, watching Johnny pass into the sitting room saying, “I’m texting him right now.”

Phone on silent like all reasonable people had their phones, Donghyuck made a dash while Johnny’s frame still blocked the threshold.

He launched himself up the first steps, an incredulous _“Dong_ hyuck?” at his back. Johnny repeated the call with more urgency, “Donghyuck?”

“Five seconds!” he cried, which was an inaccurate measurement by all estimations, especially for someone who knew time as well as he did.

“To do _what?”_

“SNSD, DONGHYUCK?”

If one could toss themself out of their clothes, that’s exactly what Donghyuck did. He almost choked himself on his own tie, but that was life, wasn’t it?

Jeans on, belt on, shirt on, crotch spritzed, oop! Hair product dropped.

“Hyuckie, are you okay?” knocked Doyoung.

Honestly, his friends should have been more used to his antics by now. It wasn’t every day he speed-ran his life, but time travel couldn’t’ve made him a very normal person.

“Fine!” he gasped, wrenching his door open. “Help me with my hair. You’re good at hair.”

Doyoung, startled, tucked his chin in and assessed Donghyuck like someone had shaken three snowglobes in front of his face.

“If you give me, like, an _hour,”_ Doyoung protested, “and I’m buzzed.”

“Fine.” Donghyuck nudged past him to run for the bathroom.

“You’re okay?” Doyoung asked again, a little pleading.

“Super,” Donghyuck assured him, accidentally flinging the cap of his hair pomade across the tile, but that was fine.

Cookies.

He took a long, intense inhale, slammed his hands down on the counter, and turned to Doyoung. “Is something baking? It smells wonderful.”

“Oh my god,” Doyoung startled. “The cookies!”

And now Donghyuck was alone to tame his hair and make himself look a little less like he’d treated his flesh prison like a ragdoll. He warmed his palms and raked his fingers through his locks. Good _god_ he needed a haircut, but that was a problem of, like, last week, and he wasn’t going back.

He plucked at his shirt, making it tuck just right under the fitted cinch of his belt.

And then he closed his eyes and let himself take a breather.

He envisioned Taeil as perfectly as he could so that when he waltzed down there with artificial swagger, he didn’t trip over his own feet and smack his face into Jaemin’s skull.

That undercut, the way his hair was swept just right off his forehead and touched his temple with its fringe, that red turtleneck that accented his jawline just right, his smile—Christ.

“Alright, Duckie,” Donghyuck said, shaking his head and checking himself one last time in the mirror. He had just enough of a peekaboo with his own forehead to make him look . . . well, Donghyuck wasn’t a narcissist, but he thought he looked pretty sexy. And he liked this shirt. It had little white doodles on it and showed off his collar bones.

He made his descent.

“They’re not _that_ overcooked,” said Dejun.

“You eat everything—”

“DONGHYUCK!”

“You missed _'Genie,’_ you abomination!” (“Whoops!”)

“You look good, Hyuckie.” (“Thanks, hyung!”)

“You get paid overtime, right?” (“Well—”) “Jesus Christ.”

Donghyuck let himself get drawn in and start basking like a sunflower to sunlight. He processed more this time like he always did. Pizza boxes, fried chicken, instant noodles on the coffee table relocated behind the couch where some of the guys were still picking over the food. Someone had brought a gift, which he could see wrapped next to the television. What drinks were occupying the floor were placed in sensible places, although the night was young.

And Taeil was wearing the bumblebee guest slippers Donghyuck had totally forgotten they owned.

“Hey Donghyuck-ah,” said Taeil.

“Hyung,” Donghyuck replied, beaming. Taeil’s smile got a little wider. “You look amazing.”

Taeil’s laugh was bright and warm and climbed over the beginning notes of a song that sounded a lot like Justin Bieber and not at all like SHINee.

It was amazing what a few differences could change.

But it was alright. Taeil was stuck on the couch until a different song unseated him, and Donghyuck had to make his rounds anyway until then. He loved everyone at this party. He should say hello.

“I’m coming back to you,” Donghyuck promised, pointing at him and wanting to touch him so badly he was going to wiggle out of his slippers if he didn’t move out from under Taeil’s gaze immediately.

He did. He moved on, looping around the couch and tapping Jeno’s ass while he was at it. Those were some damn attractive pants on him.

“How’s it going?” he asked Renjun first, who was ferrying an empty box away away from the coffee table. “How late am I?”

Renjun shook his hair out of his eyes. “Just an hour, kinda. Last people got here thirty minutes ago, but Yuta was here to help tidy up just after seven. Can you grab those?”

“The sodas? Oh yup, yeah I got them.”

“Thanks.”

“Tu casa es mi casa.”

“I don’t know Spanish, Hyuck. Set your bar lower.”

“Eh,” he hedged. “Sungchan!” Donghyuck smiled as they hit the kitchen and Renjun folded the pizza box in two. “We missed you last time!”

“Early exam,” Sungchan apologized. “I’m not a good test-taker.”

“Good enough to get admitted into your program, though,” Donghyuck reasoned. “Happy to have you. That’s a very sexy shirt.”

“Shotaro got it for me.”

 _“Cute,”_ Donghyuck hissed and watched Sungchan blush above the neckline of his, yes, very sexy shirt. Shotaro had good taste, assuming Donghyuck wasn’t _too_ fashion-blind. He patted Sungchan’s arm to get him out of Renjun’s way, and Sungchan took the cue. “Mark Lee!” Donghyuck segued. “Have you heard SHINee’s ‘Honesty’?”

“Wh—I mean. Can we talk about my day first?” Mark laughed. “What album is that from?”

 _“Sherlock,_ isn’t it?” Renjun hummed, still in the kitchen and taking the empty soda bottles from Donghyuck to crush for the recycling bin.

Mark whistled. “That one’s _old._ I didn’t know you were—”

Donghyuck left the kitchen, seeking out the people he hadn’t yet said a word to in any of his attempts yet.

* * *

An hour or so passed in a blur, then a Mario Kart relay started up where second place relinquished his controls to the first bystander he laid eyes on. It took Donghyuck ten minutes into watching to realize he was dehydrated, having skipped his water bottle agenda entirely in the midst of learning about Ten’s new cat, Chenle’s reports on other people’s business, Jungwoo’s terrible run-in at a club (hysterical), and more.

He caught his breath against the counter, brimming with energy he didn’t know what to do with. All things said, he wouldn’t mind repeating party nights indefinitely. It was nearing eleven, though, and that’d be a big do-over.

Delicately, he twisted the cap of the water bottle he’d retrieved from the fridge and tipped it back, eyes on the ceiling.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Donghyuck choked. It was the kind of choke that made him feel like he was dying because some of it went up his nose, and other parts almost got down his windpipe, and almost none of it actually made it through his esophagus. Instead, he spat up like a goddamn baby over his chin and almost on his shirt if he hadn’t covered his mouth and nose so fast, and now he was coughing like a 19th century child dying of tuberculosis.

“Oh my god,” Taeil laughed. “Shit, Donghyuck-ah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Donghyuck wheezed and fumbled for a paper towel to sop up his dignity. “Ow.” He laughed, too, amidst more coughs and still behind his hand until he had paper under his nose. “Do what?” he rasped.

“Be a social whirlwind. Are you okay, actually?”

Donghyuck couldn’t see Taeil’s concern very well given the watery state of his vision, but after putting his free hand up to cover the blurry, Taeil’s-face-shaped blob in his sight so he could blow his nose then dab his eyes with the clean corners, he could see that bright concern quite well.

“Yup,” Donghyuck said, determined and trying not to immediately let his brain get whisked away by the shape of Taeil’s lips. “It’s all the extroversion. If I don’t talk to everyone, I die.”

Taeil giggled. Oh god. It was the giggle where he didn’t break eye-contact. Taeil was so _weird._

Donghyuck was in love with him.

“You still need your downtime, though?” Taeil wondered. He’d filled in his eyebrows a little, Donghyuck could see now. No, he would not be obsessing over that.

“Sure,” Donghyuck said. “Everyone does. I just don’t want to be alone for very long. Did you wear this outfit aiming to kill me?”

Again, Taeil laughed. He took a step toward him. Or maybe a step toward the fridge. It was kind of hard to tell given that Taeil was at an angle and _Donghyuck-ward_ was also where the beer was kept.

“Sure,” said Taeil, a deft volley. Victory sounds erupted from Mario Kart, but the loser was unclear. “Maybe. Getting to know dead-you sounds like a challenge.”

Donghyuck bit his tongue on a very cheesy confession.

Really, though, he’d never seen Taeil in those jeans before. They looked like they fit nicely. Donghyuck was terrified of what they would look like from the back.

“Alright. I won’t die. Just to make it easier on you,” Donghyuck teased. Flirted? Oh, now he was nervous.

“Thanks,” Taeil said, and he looked almost fond, maybe. “Was really worried there for a second. What with the choking.”

He was definitely aiming for the refrigerator. Donghyuck moved for him and firmly avoided looking at Taeil’s incredible ass. God had given that man far too many gifts.

“I’ve choked on worse.”

Oh good _lord._

Why’d _that_ come out of his mouth of all things?

Donghyuck brought his water bottle back to his lips, coughing gently. His nose hurt. If they started up pseudo-karaoke again, he wouldn’t be able to hold a single note.

Taeil laughed from past the open door of the refrigerator, but it was dim and Donghyuck couldn’t see his face. A cringe was working its way through his body. Halfway across the room, Doyoung and Johnny had split the remotes over a single car and were bickering up a laughing storm.

“Right,” said Taeil.

 _“Fuck,”_ Donghyuck sighed as the fridge door closed.

“What?”

“Be back in a second.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

There were shoes.

Donghyuck got his own off, his slippers on, and walked shamelessly right into Johnny’s circle of awareness.

It was similar to the first time—almost identical, actually, except Donghyuck managed to roll up his sleeves, drop his shit by the foot of the stairs, and invite Jungwoo up again for “Genie.”

And he also managed to say, right before the iconically weird _“That’s right, come on,”_ “Do I smell something baking?”

Which took care of that, and no one complained about the cookies being in for too long after he’d finished with his best performance of the song yet.

Taeil clapped, too.

“I’m coming back to you,” Donghyuck promised again, still pointing at him—and Taeil’s eyes were all mirth and fondness—but this time, he did the water route again first. He heard Onew’s lines from Taeil’s lips, experienced the shiver, and skipped going upstairs to change.

It wasn’t urgent.

And then it was two-ish hours of socializing, trying different questions to get different results (Kunhang’s thirst traps, drama at Kun’s workplace, false accusations of a breakup between Jaemin and Jeno from Chenle, and Doyoung considering Lasik).

The glow was back by the time Mario Kart was underway, Donghyuck feeling energized and content in his bones.

When Taeil said, “I don’t know how you do it,” Donghyuck did _not_ choke on his water.

“It’s the extroversion. Plus,” Donghyuck said, “I really like everyone here.”

“You’re a good friend,” Taeil said, and Donghyuck’s clenched jaw prayed that wasn’t a major friendzone. It wouldn’t be the first time he was at a fork in the road for interpreting Taeil’s words and body language. He was an enigma, sometimes. Entirely transparent but at an opacity that very few other people were.

“They make it easy,” Donghyuck said and opened the fridge for Taeil. “You look good, by the way.”

“It’s no suit.” Taeil teased, flipping those tables. He cracked the tab of his beer.

“I was thinking of changing, actually,” Donghyuck hummed. “Crowning glory of the last hour.”

Taeil smiled, tapping the side of his can with his thumb but not drinking from it yet. “You’ll outshine midnight, Donghyuck-ah.” It almost sounded like reproval if not for the coy sip Taeil gave his beer. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“TAEIL, YOU’RE UP! COME KICK TAEYONG’S ASS.” 

The smile Taeil had on his face hooked up at the corner into something almost Cheshire. “Sorry.”

“I’ll hold your beer, babe,” Donghyuck said, and then his brain caught up. His stomach plummeted through his rectum and his brain fizzed out with a snap, crackle, pop! Out of sheer fear, he failed to stop his mouth from running. “You’ve got more ass than anyone is this place.”

The laugh that bubbled up out of Taeil made Donghyuck feel like someone had punched him in the face. Giddiness made him nearly fumble Taeil’s beer when he held it out.

“Thanks,” Taeil said, and turned to leave the kitchen.

Donghyuck almost took a sip of the can before he remembered himself, and then the hunger hit.

He would’ve liked to think that food didn’t occur to him right that second because of the downright vision Taeil’s ass made as he walked away.

It probably did, though.

Passing back to the sitting room after placing his water bottle aside, he rummaged through the available food laid out on the coffee table as half the party was wrapped up in Princess Peach. His ears perked up at Jisung saying, “I just don’t do scary movies well.”

“What if you have someone to cuddle?” Dejun suggested from where they both sat on the floor cushions Mark had probably pulled from the ninth circle of their closet. Donghyuck sat with them after yanking another cushion from under the coffee table. “That’s how I do it.”

“Best cuddles in this friend group,” Donghyuck pitched, picking up a slice of bulgogi pizza. “Who is it?”

“I mean,” said Dejun, “It’s gotta be Jaehyun, right?”

“Jaemin,” Jisung reasoned.

“He’s so bony,” Donghyuck demurred. “Yuta,” he offered instead, which accidentally drew the man in, apparently sitting directly on the opposite side of the couch.

“‘Yuta’ what?” Yuta asked, hooking his elbows over the back. By the sound of it and the tiny jolt of his body, someone smacked his ass, but it didn’t so much as register on his face.

“We’re ranking all of us in terms of cuddling capability,” Donghyuck said, finally taking a bite now that he’d said his piece.

“Taeil,” Yuta said without missing a beat, and Donghyuck only barely avoided biting down on his cheek instead of the chunk of food in his mouth. “He’ll let you do it for ages.”

Donghyuck had forgotten they were roommates.

“Well, if Donghyuck’s right,” Dejun said, “and you are too, then snuggling you both at the same time would be peak cuddle pile goals.”

Yuta laughed, fingers curling over his mouth.

“I stand by Jaehyun, though,” Dejun added for the record.

“Oh, oh,” Yuta said. “No, Jaehyun’s really good too.”

Donghyuck swallowed his bite to say something—he didn’t know what—when the room erupted into cheers of “MOON TAE-IL!” 

The couch back bounced as all its occupants aside from Yuta sprang from the cushions and howled like Taeil had just won gold at the olympics, and Taeil was giggling as he got pushed around and hauled up like a sack of flour.

Taeyong forfeited his controller, laughing with delight at the boisterous show following his own loss.

Donghyuck stuffed the rest of his pizza into his mouth and stood up. “M’gonna go change,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Can you give this beer to Taeil? It’s his.”

The three of them nodded, and he slipped away from the party without anyone batting an eye. Sometimes his timing was excellent.

* * *

At eleven-thirty, his hair was perfect, he smelled good, and the music had started up again. Except the couch was pushed farther away from the television and Sicheng was dying on the makeshift dance floor as Ten dipped him in the middle of a very passionate cover of Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours.”

“Shut _up,”_ Sicheng was begging, then cried in abject distress when Ten kissed his neck and dropped him on the carpet.

“CONQUERED.”

The room cheered, and Jungwoo slid into Donghyuck’s bubble from the side, tucking his arm around his waist. “We’re doing battles,” Jungwoo explained. They liked doing these at parties: two people paired off—one set of three in the case of odd numbers—then chose a song they both knew, and when it was their turn to perform against each other, it was a battle of nerves.

Sicheng had been brave to let Ten choose him. Man was a different level of shameless.

“Is this you claiming me?” Donghyuck mumbled, tipping his head onto Jungwoo’s shoulder even though Jungwoo was a bit too tall for it to be comfortable. From here, it looked like Renjun had snagged Jeno and Jaemin as the only person who could feasibly pry himself between them. Jaemin was more likely to put up an effort if Renjun was there, too.

“Have to. You’re the only one left,” Jungwoo said. “Well, there’s Mark and Johnny and Yukhei and like, five other people, but—” Jungwoo pulled a repulsed face just to make Donghyuck laugh, and it worked. Donghyuck tilted into Jungwoo’s chest and let himself cackle as the next couple revved up their song, and Jungwoo patted his back with a grin.

The classic bell sounds of Sam Smith’s “How Do You Sleep?” started for Doyoung and Kun, and Kun flipped the water bottle in his hand like a mic for his delivery of the first line.

“How do you feel about AJ Mitchell?” Jungwoo asked.

“Don’t know him well enough,” Donghyuck admitted. “Michael Jackson?”

“Against you?” Jungwoo made an offended sound. “Ariana? Pharrell? We can do ‘Happy.’”

Doyoung and Kun were _killing_ it, but neither of them were really caving to each other. It’d have to go to a vote, and that didn’t bode well for Doyoung if only because forcing him to lose was so funny.

“I’m only ever happy when I’m with you, Jungwoo-hyung,” Donghyuck joked, jabbing Jungwoo in the side and slipping out of his grip. Jungwoo wheezed and laughed, following Donghyuck further into the room so they could get a better view and queue up their song. “Who’s with Taeil?” he risked asking. 

He generally kept his crush under the rug. This entire friend group was tight-knit, and he didn’t want it getting back to Taeil or making anyone feel awkward for keeping a secret. The chance of Jungwoo scrutinizing him was slim because of Donghyuck’s precautions, but sometimes he couldn’t resist being suspicious.

Jungwoo cast him a sideways glance anyway. “Chenle, I think.”

“Oh, _fun,”_ Donghyuck said, trying to deflect away from the subject as he stole Mark’s phone from the arm of the couch where it was being used to screencast karaoke songs. “Fun, fun.”

“A VOTE!”

“DOWN WITH DOIE!”

“FUCK YOU GUYS FOR REAL.” But Doyoung was laughing himself into a pink fit as Jisung and Johnny took the floor with—what was playing? Donghyuck checked the song. 

Lauv? 

Cute.

Jisung was going to die.

Jungwoo draped himself over Donghyuck’s back as he found a decent-looking version of Pharrell Williams’ song “Happy” and slid it in under “Into the Unknown” from _Frozen._

At the top of the phone ticked a placid 11:39.

Twenty-one minutes.

Donghyuck let out a breath and turned to give and enjoy Jungwoo’s blatant request for cuddles.

After Johnny and Jisung came Taeyong and Yangyang, who absolutely murdered each other in a rap cover—for being just normal guys in veterinary sciences and international relations respectively, they were absolutely sick at riding a flow.

Yangyang caved when Taeyong did a body roll, though.

Every battle kicked ass, really—so many of them had dabbled (or were currently dabbling) in the arts over the years whether it was in clubs, for actual paid classes, or in Shotaro’s case a downright occupation. It made parties extremely fun and was the invisible support beam they could all fall back on when in doubt.

Birds of a feather flocked together.

Turned out it was Taeil and Chenle who had chosen “Into the Unknown.”

Knowing that made Donghyuck laugh before the first notes had even started, which wasn’t a good place to start when Taeil’s singing voice always shocked him breathless.

Oh god. It was the Panic! version.

Taeil’s voice hit him like a wall.

It hit everyone like a wall.

The room screamed as he hit that D# like a fucking _god._ His voice was incredible—his _range_ while keeping out of falsetto blew Donghyuck’s mind. It wasn’t like his own voice wasn’t good (it was fantastic, even, and he’d once had training just as Taeil allegedly had), but it wasn’t a contest. If anything, his own training made him even more appreciative.

“He's too much,” Donghyuck moaned.

“Someone get him a contract,” Jungwoo agreed.

Chenle was smiling so widely it made him look dangerous, and the entire song was like a . . . a shot of insta-death to Donghyuck. His knees were weak. Neither Chenle nor Taeil were backing down, egged on by each other, and the room was going batshit.

Donghyuck felt his legs come alive, his fingers drumming on his thigh, his heart throbbing up a storm, an oppressive energy choking him out. He wanted to kiss Taeil so fucking bad with his adrenaline-filled smile and glittering eyes.

“Hard act to follow,” Jungwoo mumbled happily as Taeil breathlessly conceded his win to Chenle for the gorgeous way he wrapped up the song. 

Taeil and Chenle passed them on their way off the “floor.” “Are you up next, Hyuckie?” Taeil asked.

Donghyuck wanted to _die._

“You got this,” Taeil said, glowing.

_Death, death, death._

“Hell yeah I do.”

Donghyuck took the stage and let the jazzy rhythm overtake him before he had a chance to crumple. Jungwoo started off with his pretty voice, getting his body and vocal chords warmed back up with a few finger snaps and foot shuffles.

Donghyuck started the clapping, caught the bounce, and took over.

The song started to build, the energy swelling back up again. Donghyuck felt the mood in his fingers, the smile in his face start to fizzle just riding off Jungwoo’s vibes and every person in the room who slowly started joining in. That smile carved a sound out of his voice, curling it like buttered pastry in the oven. By the time the song peaked, everyone was singing along and Jungwoo and he were just doing circles around each other in fun move trade-offs, singing in each other’s faces.

Jungwoo was working hard to unseat him, but Donghyuck was feeling powerful.

And, as usual with this sort of thing, the song ended with just a draw and smiles no one could shake. Donghyuck was feeling incandescent. He could do anything.

“OH SHIT IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT.”

Every single person in the room scrambled for their phones. “Can’t Stop the Feeling” started up on the television, but Mark was too busy bounding across the room to Yuta.

“SIX.”

Donghyuck couldn’t see Taeil—

“FIVE.”

_Fuck._

“FOUR. THREE.”

Donghyuck tripped over the edge of the carpet and just barely missed knocking into Johnny and Jaehyun.

“TWO.”

“No, nonono, no—”

“ONE.”

And half the room was kissing as the rest erupted into cheers.

There was Taeil. In the kitchen. Crowing out a hurrah over a water bottle.

The breath that fought out of Donghyuck’s chest was the worst one he’d ever exhaled.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Shoes.

Johnny.

“Hey Donghyuck-ah.”

“Hi, hyung. Do I smell something baking?”

Genie.

“I’m coming back to you.”

Water.

The SHINee shiver. 

_Eating._ Good god.

Social rounds—Renjun got a new art commission, he’d have to visit Taeyong’s place to see his new gaming setup, Yangyang almost got hit by a car last week (Jesus Christ? He’d go back a hundred times to stop that from happening if necessary, but thank god he didn’t have to.), Ten had a new tattoo appointment and was trying to get some of the others to come along—and then water again.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Donghyuck beamed at Taeil, handing him the beer he had ready. “It’s the extroversion. Plus everyone here just . . . fucking rocks.”

“They really do,” Taeil smiled. “I got lucky.”

“You’re one of them,” Donghyuck promised. “You’re incredible, really. We all love you.”

Taeil got a little pink, but smiled, sipping his beer. “Same to you.”

Donghyuck hummed, fighting his own blush, and looked up over to the couch. “I think Kunhang just lost—”

“TAEIL, YOU’RE UP! COME KICK TAEYONG’S ASS.” 

“I’ll hold your beer, babe.” The word still sparked in his mouth like an aborted bomb going off. “Taeyong’s going to wish he had an ass for you to beat after you’re done with him.”

Taeil’s laugh was more sudden this time, a bark of delight as he passed over his beer. “Incredible,” he said and moved for the couch.

Donghyuck hid his own water bottle and Taeil’s beer then bolted for his room.

He got faster each attempt, obviously, so by the time he neatly avoided slamming into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, everyone was only just pairing off, and Taeil was afloat.

Donghyuck nabbed Taeil’s beer (left his own water bottle because _meh)_ and caught Taeil before Chenle even looked in his direction.

“Hi,” Donghyuck said breathlessly, and Taeil startled, then laughed.

“Your disappearing act is crazy,” Taeil mumbled fondly. “What a transformation.”

“Did you win?” Donghyuck asked, passing him his beer, which Taeil took with another look of surprise—there was a possibility he didn’t win. Time was fun like that.

“Of course,” Taeil said, smile warm.

“Fantastic. Wanna battle me?” Donghyuck asked without wasting another moment.

“Was that contingent on me winning?” Taeil laughed, seemingly unbothered by how close they were standing—Donghyuck hadn’t meant to get so firmly up into Taeil’s bubble like this, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d managed to brush his teeth this time, too, so things were going well. “I’d love to.”

“Have you seen _Moulin Rouge?”_ Donghyuck asked. He didn’t want to do “Into the Unknown” if only because the minute Taeil belted that D#, Donghyuck would lose his mind with the rest of the room. And he’d rather not prevent Taeil from singing just because he couldn’t stop himself from kissing him on the mouth before midnight hit.

“Did you plan this?” Taeil asked, the mirth in his eyes making Donghyuck feel like he was a simmering blob in a pan. 

“I’ve wanted to sing ‘Elephant Love Medley’ with someone all night,” Donghyuck explained, then followed up quickly with, “It’ll be fun. I can be Satine.” Their voices were suited to that particular split, though they could reasonably trade no problem. While “Elephant Love Medley” hadn’t _really_ been on his mind all night, he had thought about this particular match-up before. He loved _Moulin Rouge._ It made him cry no matter how many times he watched it.

“Only if you don’t die on me,” Taeil said (Oh, wow. Some real death-discussion deja vu.) as Ten and Sicheng took the stage behind him. His gaze was steady but still aglitter. 

“Psht,” said Donghyuck. “Satine doesn’t die in this song. Let’s do it.”

With a pleasantly fond expression, Taeil hummed his consent, turning to let Donghyuck pass for the pursuit of Mark’s phone. He queued up right under Johnny and Jisung’s pick, then stepped back to re-enjoy the competitions.

Doyoung still lost, but this time Donghyuck got to enjoy Taeil’s laugh beside it.

Fascinatingly, Yangyang and Taeyong switched from a Kendrick Lamar song to Travis Scott. Donghyuck always wondered what butterfly ripples he made to change such subtle things, but he liked observing it, and their performance was just as good.

“We would have made such a rad idol group,” Donghyuck said when Johnny and Jisung took the stage.

“Huh,” said Taeil. “That’s a thought.”

Maybe in a different world, a different time, they were.

Once again, Jisung totally buckled under Johnny’s unblushing nerve, his big hands coming up to cover his laugh and the vivid blush he was sporting as he scooted off the floor. He’d put up a good fight, though. He’d thrown in some very good dancing.

“Kill it, hyung,” Johnny said and took Taeil’s beer upon passing them.

“I intend to.”

And Donghyuck lost sensation in his fingers.

Despite being disturbingly good at Mario Kart, Taeil was not ordinarily a competitive creature—at least not by Donghyuck’s estimation. Donghyuck constantly found him enjoying the sidelines, perfectly happy there, then just happening to be balls-to-the-wall incredible whenever the spotlight shined on him in some form or other (he was talented in a few areas or else incredibly funny).

So what a thing to hear just over his right shoulder from Moon Taeil’s lips.

“I thought you didn’t _want_ me to die,” Donghyuck said before the karaoke video started and Taeil did that small, little laugh with his gaze unerring.

“Right,” Taeil said. “I’m killing the song.”

“Same thing,” Donghyuck said under his breath, bracing himself for the first line as Taeil faced him straight on with nary a glance at the television.

“Love is a many . . . _splendid_ thing,” Taeil said with an accented flourish, and Donghyuck had known what he was getting into, but doing what was essentially a roleplay right out the gate made the shy part of him want to squirm out of his skin. “Love _lifts_ us up where we belong! All you need is love,” Taeil reasoned.

“Please, don’t start that again,” Donghyuck said, wrestling down both a smile and that shy beast. He was going to die with _aplomb._

Taeil held out his hand, and Donghyuck flinched in an effort to hold himself back and not take it immediately. _“All you need is love,”_ Taeil sang perfectly.

“A man has got to eat,” Donghyuck said, switching the lyrics because he was _gay._

_“All you need is love.”_

“I shall end up on the streets!”

Taeil repeated the line one last time, smile biting into his words, and flipped into a falsetto and right back down just for Donghyuck to say, barely suppressing his embarrassed giddiness, _“Love is just a game.”_

And then the song kicked off, Taeil dropping right down into his lovely lower register but with just a little grit, and Donghyuck finally cutting in with his singing voice.

The entire experience was burrowing into his bones very quickly, but it just fueled him, buoyed by the guys hyping up the climb to “Love Lifts Us Up.” Already, every time Taeil crooned “baby,” everyone was losing their goddamn minds (and Donghyuck was too, but suppressing it).

Taeil was still just farther than an arm’s length from him, but Donghyuck was warming up now and digging in deeper to his lines, and the little giggle Taeil included when he said, “No, I won’t!” made Donghyuck feel like if he didn’t make a move soon, he’d collapse.

It was Taeil who took a step forward first, though, his _“We should be lovers!”_ line so strong that the moment basically necessitated it.

 _“We can’t do that,”_ Donghyuck sang. You know. Like a liar.

 _“We should be lovers, and that’s a fact,”_ Taeil sang, almost sighing that last bit, and Donghyuck felt his spine unzipping.

In retrospect, this was a terrible song for his nerves. He didn’t have the strength to deny Taeil for so long, even if Taeil was just performing a character, but the harmony portion was coming up and Donghyuck was primed to step up right into Taeil’s business so he could look down at him and _perish._

 _“We could steal time,”_ Taeil suggested, and Donghyuck had honestly forgotten that line was even _in_ this song as he whispered with Taeil in tandem: _“Just for one day.”_

And then the harmony hit, and Donghyuck stepped up into him, daring Taeil with a tilt of his head as the man’s expression tightened like a bowstring, the pressure of a battle building. They were _competing._

Their voices mixed gorgeously. Donghyuck had only sung with Taeil a few times, but it had rarely been in harmony and he had never been so close. He could see every single one of Taeil’s short eyelashes, a few faded acne scars, the pores in his nose.

He was absolutely losing it, but he hadn’t dropped a single note yet.

Donghyuck placed his hand on the back of Taeil’s neck, scrunching Taeil’s turtleneck down to access his skin with his palm, the heat in his own body making it impossible to stay consciously sane and still do the deed. Someone yelled in excitement, “HYUCKIE!” as he thumbed the soft, short hairs of Taeil’s nape and felt his heart pass out. He could feel the resonance of Taeil’s voice just barely in his palm.

Taeil breathed a giggle in the middle of his line, wobbling for one moment, before his expression drew serious right as it was his line to take over again. With a bracing breath, his voice came through perfectly, round and full, and he raised a single finger to stroke the underside of Donghyuck’s chin to tilt it up. Taeil was just shorter, enough to get right up against Donghyuck’s body and have his voice coming out an inch from his jaw. Taeil was barely expelling air—just warmth and energy. 

The heat in Donghyuck’s body rushed in two opposite directions.

His voice was weak coming in. He squeezed his grip on the back of Taeil’s neck and tried to blink away an almost overwhelming bout of covetous longing. 

Their friends were being uproarious, then outright bellowed when Taeil placed his hand on Donghyuck’s waist.

Donghyuck’s voice broke on the word _“you.”_

“DEFEATED,” Johnny boomed. “BOOYAH.”

He stumbled away, heart crashing and all the cabinetry in his head tipping over, making a mess of his thoughts. Taeil was breathless again like he had been with “Into the Unknown,” laughing, glittering eyes chasing Donghyuck’s. He was reaching for him, saying, “God, you were so good!” and nudging him off the performance floor as their song stopped and switched to the next one. “We need to sing with each other more!” he said over the jostling praise he was getting shoved into his shoulders.

“Please,” Donghyuck gasped as Chenle and Jaehyun passed them. 

Someone ruffled his hair—Jungwoo he thought—and said, “Good effort, Hyuckie.” But Donghyuck was so busy trying not to trace Taeil’s mouth with his eyes that he didn’t even register the possibility of his hairstyle getting ruined. Taeil’s skin was still a phantom against his hand, his waist warm, his chin and jaw tingling.

“When’s—is midnight happening?” Donghyuck asked, fumbling.

“Huh?”

“Midnight?”

Jaehyun and Chenle’s song started, and Donghyuck was moving in abbreviated time, staring down at Taeil’s phone that said 11:57.

“Hyung.”

“Yeah?” Taeil was still smiling, but his mouth was usually hovering around a smile—sometimes distant, sometimes vivid. This one was becoming smaller, but in a quiet way. Not a “Donghyuck you’re harshing the vibes” kind of way.

“Can we kiss at midnight?” Donghyuck asked, lips numb. “Is it okay if I kiss you at midnight? I like you so much.”

Taeil’s expression froze. Their friends were cheering for some outrageous thing Chenle did. In Donghyuck’s periphery, Taeil’s phone turned to 11:58 before switching off.

“It’s not—you can say no,” Donghyuck said as the rest of his face went numb. “I promise it’s not—I didn’t just. I’ve liked you for a l—It’s been a long time.”

“Hyuckie, breathe,” Taeil said, and his eyes were lighting up again, maybe. “I can kiss you now, if you would like.”

Donghyuck’s brain wheezed. It sputtered and gave off smoke and he almost coughed in Taeil’s peaceful face. The vision of kissing Taeil bloomed fully-formed in his head, more complete and achievable than he’d ever imagined it. But “No!” he said blindly. “I mean _yes,_ but I—yes, but I want it to be—”

“Midnight,” Taeil said, and he laughed. “I got it. Okay.”

“It’s just—”

“Please kiss me at midnight, Donghyuck-ah.”

Donghyuck entered a state of paralysis, staring at Taeil’s steady face.

“Do you want some water?” Taeil asked as Jaehyun and Chenle reached the second verse of a song Donghyuck was barely hearing. He touched Donghyuck’s elbow.

“Do you like your kisses wet?” Donghyuck said like a dumbass, his humor coming out half-blurted and filterless. He couldn’t even process the acceptable amount of mortification he should have felt at saying that.

Taeil _laughed,_ though, loud and bright, touch sliding down from Donghyuck’s elbow to clasp his hand. The hairs on Donghyuck’s forearm stood to attention. He was waking up in short bursts, brain kicking his gears into the right slots and tossing files into corners.

The kitchen clock, when they reached it, said 11:59.

Donghyuck plucked his water bottle out from behind the sugar jar before Taeil could move for the fridge, but he fumbled. His hands were numb. The bottle skidded on the floor and Donghyuck tilted his head back to breathe better, get some oxygen in his brain. He had less than a minute to not be a freak about this.

He squeaked when Taeil’s hands cupped his face and brought him back down to earth.

“How can you be so shameless,” Taeil said, dropping his hands as soon as Donghyuck was looking him in the eyes, then bending to pick up the fallen water bottle, “and so nervous about kissing me?” When his face was back in Donghyuck’s line of sight, he was smiling just with one corner of his mouth. “Did someone tell you I’m an expert or something?”

“You’re just _you,”_ Donghyuck said. The excitement was kicking in. He was pins and needles and endless bolts of golden fabric. “You’re _chill_ and understanding and humble and think I’m funny and you have an incredible voice. You’re such a good friend to me—” He really _was._ God. He’d been a rock in the midst of so many mistakes Donghyuck had allowed to happen and promptly crashed over for his own betterment (mistakes were so hard; messing up was _so_ hard). “—and when I’m not a mess, you’re so relaxing to be around and I’ve known you for years and I still think you’re wonderful.”

Taeil’s eyes went out of focus, smile turning timid. “Well,” he said, laughed once, and set his beer on the counter, “that means a lot coming from you. You’re serious about this, aren’t you? It’s not just a kiss?”

“No,” Donghyuck breathed. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Taeil said.

“OH SHIT IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT.”

Taeil’s smile came back alive, tilting into a grin.

“SIX.”

“Let’s talk about this, okay?” Taeil said, reaching up to cup Donghyuck’s jaw again.

“FIVE.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck promised.

“FOUR.”

Donghyuck touched his forehead to Taeil’s, pulse riding so hard in his neck he could hear it. Taeil’s hand was warm.

“THREE.”

Taeil’s nose touched his, and Donghyuck raised his hand to hold Taeil’s neck again and trace his fingertips under the fabric of his turtleneck.

“TWO.”

“Donghyuck-ah, do you even know—”

“ONE.”

“—how amazing you are?”

The cries of “HAPPY NEW YEAR” exploded around them as Donghyuck gripped Taeil’s neck and pressed into him, his entire face fizzling as he parted his lips and gave himself over fully. Moon Taeil’s lips were softer than Donghyuck had dared to imagine. Plush, warm, and not the owners of half-assed intentions.

The kiss lasted until the cries died down, until Donghyuck was smiling against Taeil’s mouth as Taeil smiled back, until Donghyuck could no longer feel his legs and needed to grip the countertop when he pulled away, until his heart was so big in his chest that he was only seeing colors and the glow of lights.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled.

“Good?” Taeil asked.

“Please date me.”

Taeil threw his head back and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/speckledsolana)   
>  [curiouscat](https://t.co/zW26zmaxzw?amp=1)   
> 


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